Of Italians and Noisy Nights Out
by Trebla
Summary: Rebecca and Shaun head to the bar for a night of drinking and a much-needed break, but things don't go quite as planned...


hey, look, something over one thousand words without adding the author's note at the beginning!  
well, this almost wasn't completed, except that the kind words and request of one Kaitlyn-101 convinced me to pull it out of the vault and dust it off. i was on a roll tonight, so i completed it and am throwing it out there, just for all of you Rebecca/Shaun lovers! i do hope you enjoy, as **i quite obviously do not own Assassin's Creed_, _**otherwise it'd be a helluva lot less awesome.

oh, also, i plan on doing a kind of sequel thing with Lucy and Desmond, as the idea for this came from the email that Shaun sent around asking if anyone wanted to go drinking. ;D don't expect it immediately, though; i'm distracted with other work as of late.

* * *

"I was really hoping that you'd managed to secure something a little less...conspicuous," Shaun muttered, hoisting himself up into the cab of the white truck they had used to cart the Animus 2.0 and the Assassin team across Europe. Rebecca snorted as she clambered in beside him, slamming the door shut and starting up the engine.

"Please, what did you expect me to do? Boost a car from the surrounding neighborhood?" she responded, pulling the truck out of the warehouse it had been hidden in, just outside the Auditore villa in which they were stationed.

"Desmond managed to, as you so eloquently put it, 'boost' a motorbike from a nearby pub once to get back to the villa," Shaun retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Really, Shaun? Motorbike?" Rebecca asked, snorting. "And besides, Desmond has certain...skills, that he picked up from living in the encampment."

Shaun shrugged. "I don't see why you couldn't have tried, at least. Then maybe you'd get arrested and I wouldn't have to worry about your face being the first thing I see every morning." He paused, pondering that. "No," he decided gloomily, "Lucy would just go in and bail you out. Or break you out. Then we'd have to be on the run from the police _and _the Templars."

Rebecca rolled her eyes and slugged Shaun in the arm, just hard enough to make him wince. "C'mon, you know you'd miss me," she said with a wink. Shaun narrowed his eyes at her, rubbing his arm.

"That was unnecessary violence," he muttered, choosing to ignore her comment. Rebecca snorted again.

"Baby," she responded.

The cab fell into silence, and Shaun watched the landscape flash by the window while he pondered Rebecca's statement. Would he miss her, if she left? he wondered. But of course he knew the answer even before he asked the question.

Yes. Absolutely, positively, yes.

Shaun's forehead crinkled in mild frustration. He was always somewhat exasperated at his own thoughts, but there was still a large part of his mind that wondered how she felt as well. Certainly the kiss that had resulted from their earlier meeting meant something... Or perhaps it was just another of her games, meant to unnerve him and throw him off his guard? The Brit's frown deepened. Or maybe it had been an accident? Maybe she had tripped on something while she was standing up, and had hit his cheek with her lips while falling?

Shaun snorted. Now he was just being ridiculous.

Rebecca glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. Shaun blinked, startled.

"Who, me?" he asked stupidly, coming back to himself. Rebecca laughed.

"No, the other cynical British Assassin in the cab with me," she responded sarcastically. "Of course, you. You seemed kind of absorbed there for a bit. Penny for your thoughts?" she smiled, now without spite. Shaun felt the lightest tinge of pink stealing over his features.

"It was nothing," he muttered, not meeting the curious gaze of the dark-haired woman. "Just thinking about some work I've got to do when we get back."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "You're such a workaholic, Shaun," she said, but there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she didn't entirely believe his story.

"I'm not a workaholic!" Shaun protested. "I'm here with you now, aren't I? I could've stayed back at the Sanctuary with Lucy and Desmond if I wanted to keep working!"

Rebecca grinned at him as she pulled into a darkened parking lot outside a large brick building. "I don't think I'd want to be in the same room as Luce and Desmond right about now," she said, winking at him.

"Hmm? What do you mean by that?" Shaun asked, confused. Rebecca just laughed and killed the truck's engine, sliding out of the cab and onto the ground.

Sighing, Shaun followed suit, closing the truck's door as quietly as possible so as not to garner any extra attention. He supposed he needn't have bothered, though; there were only a few other cars parked in the lot, their engines long cooled.

He looked up and appraised the building with quick eyes; it didn't look anything like a bar. In fact, it looked rather like an office building, with its bland, no-nonsense exterior and its rows upon rows of blank windows staring down on the two Assassins.

"Why are we parked in front of an office building?" the Brit questioned with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps I should drive next time."

Rebecca sighed. "I parked it a few blocks away from the bar, idiot," she explained, already beginning to stride off down the street. "Anybody who sees that hunk of metal in their parking lot oughta be suspicious about it. We'll walk back to it when its time to go."

"I don't plan on being able to walk," Shaun pointed out, a somewhat rougish grin floating on his face. Rebecca chuckled and elbowed him playfully.

"Damn straight," she agreed.

The bar, when they turned the corner a block later, wasn't a flashy affair; its darkened exterior, with the exception of one flickering neon sign, reminded Shaun of the pubs in England. The only thing that was missing was the lingering sods outside the door, attempting to convince passerby to sneak them back in. Or puking in the alley. They usually did more puking than convincing.

Pushing the door open, Shaun was confronted with the comforting scent of smoke mixed with the musk of sweat that he had come to associate with all bars. The room was dimly lit, and a battered-looking pool table sat in the corner. A small space was cleared on the side of the room nearest to the two just entering the bar apparently was acting as a makeshift dance floor; a few couples swayed to the beat of a slow song playing quietly overhead.

Shaun sighed quietly, wrinkling his nose at the sight. "I don't know what's coming of pubs these days," he said, seating himself at a stool in front of the long counter. Rebecca sat down beside him, casting a glance over her shoulder at the dancers.

"I dunno, I think it's kind of cute," she said, a half-smile on her face. Shaun was instantly alert; Rebecca was not the type of woman to call things 'cute.'

He scrutinized her face carefully out of the corner of his eye. Rebecca was staring down at her nails, a faraway look in her eyes. She barely noticed when the bartender, a bright young woman with brown hair tucked up neatly into a bun (that explained the dancing, Shaun thought sourly. No male bartender would ever stand for such... fluff, in his establishment.) asked her for her order. Shaun nudged his distant companion, and Rebecca looked up, startled. Smiling hurriedly, she ordered whiskey ("On the rocks because I plan to have a few of these babies") and returned to looking distant the moment the girl had left.

Raising an eyebrow, Shaun reached over and tapped the dark-haired woman on the head with a finger. "Anyone in there?" he asked. Rebecca blinked and looked at him.

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "I'm just feeling kind of..."

"Nostalgic?" Shaun offered quietly, his eyes holding no scorn. "I know, me too. It's odd, really. This place barely resembles the pubs at home, and yet..." Shaun paused, looking around at the bar. "The scent is exactly the same," he sighed.

They received their drinks, Shaun having ordered ale from the tap ("You Americans brew the worst beer in the world, but Italians should stick to wine") and Rebecca stared into the depths of her glass.

"I was remembering the first time I ever actually went to a bar," she admitted quietly, taking a sip from her drink, then another, as if to fortify herself. "It feels like...like it's not even my life I'm remembering."

Shaun nodded, taking a careful swig from his nearly-overflowing mug. "It's a dramatic lifestyle change, going from everyday Joe to Assassin on the run," he agreed, watching with interest as Rebecca downed the rest of her glass and gestured for a second. She sighed, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answer to her cares.

"You know what the worst part is?" she said abruptly, turning her gaze to the Brit. Her eyes drilled squarely into his, and Shaun felt a shiver pass through him. "You can't have a relationship anymore," Rebecca continued, receiving her second round with a nod of thanks. She nursed it as she spoke. "Even having friends is hard, cause one day they're there, and the next..." She shook her head and took a gulp. Shaun had to be impressed; he'd never seen a woman handle whiskey so easily, even if diluted.

"But really, having a relationship is almost impossible. Unless it's with someone on the inside, I guess," Rebecca mused, rattling the ice in her glass. Shaun shook his head as she added a third round to her tally; he was only a third of the way through his first. _Guess I know who's driving home tonight, _Shaun thought, torn between amusement and annoyance.

"I haven't had sex in forever, though, and I think I hate that the most," Rebecca told him, startling him out of his thoughts. Shaun blinked rapidly, staring at the woman, his mug halfway to his mouth. Rebecca giggled, a very un-Rebecca sound, and stood up, finishing off her third glass of the evening.

"Let's dance," she said, grabbing the British man's arm and pulling him up. Shaun barely managed to put his mug down on the counter before he was forcibly dragged over to the group of swaying couples. Rebecca promptly threw her arms around his neck and began swaying with the music, and Shaun saw no choice but to place his own hands on her waist and rock with her. Rebecca's eyes closed, and a soft smile appeared on her face. Shaun found his own features beginning to mirror the expression, looking down on her.

They moved imperceptibly closer, shirts brushing. Despite his initial reservations, Shaun found himself to be quite enjoying the dancing experience, allowing Rebecca to move close enough to lean her head on his shoulder. Feeling drowsy and content, Shaun barely noticed when the hulking figure glided by, and it was only when Rebecca jerked upwards, face indignant, that he realized something was amiss.

"Some asshole just pickpocketed me!" the woman whispered heatedly, already turning, ready to deliever a fierce tongue-lashing and possibly some kind of physical violence on to the perpetrator. Shaun glanced around and easily identified the thief, a large Italian man with dark brown hair, twirling slowly with a perky blonde in a grossly short red dress.

"I know who he is," he said lowly, gaining Rebecca's attention. Shaun gestured with his chin, and she nodded, eyes glittering.

"I've got an idea," Shaun whispered, revolving so that they moved closer to the pair. "But it's not quiet."

Rebecca grinned, placing a very warm hand on his chest. "I don't mind noisy," she whispered, and Shaun knew she was speaking of a very different type of noisy indeed.

Swallowing and forcing his mind back on the task in front of him, Shaun turned and began to stagger slightly across the floor, moving until he was situated right in front of the Italian. He jabbed a finger at the man's chest, narrowing his eyes and swaying slightly.

"You," he slurred, taking care to monitor the man's movements for any sign of hostility, "My girlfriend said you copped a feel on your way by. I don't think..." he hiccuped and continued, "I don't think I can let you get away with that."

Shaun noted a nearly imperceptible tightening of the man's fists, signaling his guilt. "I must apologize, but I do not speak English," the man responded in smooth Italian. Shaun squinted at the man, feigning incomprehension.

"What did you just call me, you bastard?" he shouted, throwing a wide punch. The man dodged easily, keeping his cool. Shaun cursed inwardly. He had been hoping the man was the fiery type. It made it easier to steal the keys back off of him in a full-out brawl, when no one would notice the subtle movement.

"I imagine I'm going to regret this tomorrow," he muttered, and threw himself at the man.

"Oh, Christ, everything hurts," Shaun groaned. His vision was fuzzy, and there was a dull throbbing throughout his body, centering mainly in his head.

"That would include your mouth, then, so shut up," Rebecca's voice said. A blob of dark crouched down in his vision, and Shaun was able to match the voice to the blob. As his vision steadied, he realized he was lying in an alleyway, and Rebecca was holding a bottle of wine and a damp cloth, which she now pressed to his temple. Shaun winced, and she grinned, offering the bottle.

"What did I miss while I was apparently unconscious?" Shaun asked, taking a healthy swig from the bottle and passing it back. He felt around his forehead tentatively, and when his fingers came back bloody, Rebecca sighed and made him press the cloth to his head again.

"Got the keys back," she said, grinning and jingling them in front of him. "You did manage to grab them before your head hit the pool table, luckily. The guy had no idea you'd jacked him. No one could get your first open, though, once you were out. I was worried your fingers would start to bleed, you had such a tight grip on those things." She laughed. Shaun shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

"Why are we sitting in an alley, and where did the wine come from?" he asked, glancing at his watch. It was quarter 'til two, so they weren't entirely screwed. He'd hate to have to explain almost being caught in the daylight _and _the embarrassing injury on his temple.

"I bought it off the bartender for her trouble," Rebecca said with a shrug. "A kind of persuasion to keep her mouth shut, should anybody suspicious come asking about us. We're in an alley because that's about as far as I could drag you."

Shaun nodded slowly, careful not to disturb his head. "I was most definitely more pissed than I thought," he said with a sigh. "That sounded like a much better idea at the time."

"I have to agree on both counts," Rebecca said, standing and offering a hand to the injured Brit. "But it was definitely the most fun I've had in a while."

"Easy for you to say," Shaun grumbled, ignoring the hand and attempting to stand on his own. When the world tilted dangerously to the right, he was forced to rely on the help of Rebecca, who slung his arm around her shoulders with an air of amusement and helped him down the street.

After an almost unbearably long time, during which Shaun was almost positive he was going to see the contents of his stomach again due to the shifting of his vision, they made it back to the van. All thoughts of driving home had been driven from the British man's mind, and he climbed back into the passenger seat without comment.

The drive home was mostly quiet, both Assassins having sunk deeply into their thoughts. Shaun decided to block out the incident with the fight and focus on how the rest of the evening had been going. If Rebecca hadn't been pick-pocketed... A slow warmth grew in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

It would have been a very fine night indeed.

They made it back to the warehouse without incident, and began the trek back to the hidden Sanctuary in the villa. They spoke little, more out of a need for stealth than of no desire for conversation. Shaun decided on the walk over that once they got to the Sanctuary, he was getting to the bottom of his feelings, once and for all. He was just going to straight-up ask Rebecca about the kiss the other day, no fuss about it. Nice and easy.

At last, the moment of truth had arrived. The Auditore manor loomed above them, a silent guardian to its few inhabitants and an ever-watchful presence over their lives. Shaun swallowed; his throat was suddenly dry.

"Rebecca," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder as she was about to enter the manor. The dark-haired woman, turned, eyes curious, and all courage deserted him.

"...What should I tell the other two about my head?" Shaun blurted. Mentally, he smacked hismelf for his weakness. What kind of man was he, to be unable to ask a woman a simple question? He was a pathetic excuse for a male, and...why was she looking at him like that?

Rebecca's grin was positively devious. She pushed him against the wall and kissed him so hard, Shaun thought his lips would be bruised the next day. "Tell them..." she breathed, chest-to-chest, "that things got a bit...noisy."


End file.
